Where is the Horse and the Rider
by Kashoku1
Summary: Lord Dean of Winchester is the grandest of horse tamers and the fiercest of the Rohirrim. When he's not fighting the Uruk-hai in the plains of Rohan, he's fucking the youngest prince of Edoras: Castiel. With no heir to the throne of Gondor, Lucifer runs rampant behind the walls of Minis Tirith.
1. Chapter 1

_There was a fierce knocking at the door. John of Winchester was quick to open it and usher the grey clad wizard into his home, baring the door behind them. "Bobby, thank you for coming on such short notice."_

_"Hmph," Bobby groaned as he set his staff against the wall. "I was on important business with Rufus the Brown in Chetwood. What was so important that I had to ride to the furthest regions of Enedwaith to see you?"_

_John shut his eyes in grief before reopening them and answering, "Mary is dead, Bobby."_

_Bobby slowly reached up for his pointed hat and slid it off his balding head, laying it over his heart. "How'd they find you?"_

_John shook his head, trying to fight back the tears. "I don't know. I never saw anyone. Mary took Sam to the market with her that morning and next thing I knew Sammy was at our front door with tears in his eyes, screaming. Bobby, you have to take them somewhere safe. They can't stay here."_

_"John, you can't-"_

_"Bobby, please!" John pleaded, trying to keep his voice down as his boys slept. "I am begging you. I've already lost Mary to Azazel. I can't lose my boys, too. They are all I have left."_

_Bobby ran his hand across his beard in thought, eyes drooping in exhaustion and heartache. He had known Mary since she was just a child, and the news was more than unsettling. "I could take them to the elves. They would be more than happy to keep the boys safe, but I know how you feel about their kind."_

_John sucked in a breath and his muscles tensed. "If it can be avoided -"_

_"Yeah, yeah," Bobby waved him off as he took a seat across from where the man stood. "I am on pretty decent terms with the king of Rohan. Sam and Dean would be welcome in the Halls of Meduseld. King Charles would treat them as his own. I could at least keep an eye on them there."_

_John nodded in agreement, "Okay."_

_"John," Bobby began, "What are you going to tell them? They ain't going to want to leave you, especially Dean."_

_With a heavy sigh, John pulled out a chair at the table and sat, rubbing his hands together. "Sammy is smart. Real smart. He could easily be a scholar. And Dean. He's so good with the horses and idolizes the Rohirrim." John stroked a hand down his exhausted face. "I hate to do this to them so close to her death, but I'm so afraid for them, Bobby. I have no way of knowing what Azazel was able to force out of Mary before he killed her."_

_Bobby placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Do you want me to take them now?"_

_"No," John stated firmly. "Let them sleep in their beds just one more night. This will be hard enough on them as it is."_

_"Of course," Bobby agreed, reaching into his robes to pull out his pipe. "I promise to keep them safe, John. I won't let anything happen to your boys."_

_"Will this ever be over, Bobby? Will the fighting ever stop?" John questioned, his voice weary._

_Bobby sucked in a breath and straightened in his chair. The look he shot John was heavy with importance. "Not as long as Lucifer remains on the throne in Gondor."_

_"I can't ask it of him," John buried his head in his hands, shaking it._

_"It won't be your decision to make, John. In the end, it'll be up to Dean."_

**PRESENT DAY**

All of Rohan spoke of how Dean had tamed one of the Mearas as his personal mount, but it was on days like this that Dean really wished he could have had any other horse than Impala. The stallion was doing absolutely everything in its power to keep Dean from placing the saddle on his back, including lashing out with his front hooves. Dean cursed as he barely dodged the horse's next attack, placing the saddle over the stall door in frustration. "What orc crawled in your breakfast this morning?" Scowling he slammed the door shut and locked the stallion in. "I swear to Elbereth, you'll be the death of me, horse!"

"Lord Dean," a soft voice spoke from behind the Rohirrim.

"What?" Dean snapped as he whirled around in clear agitation. It was Inias, the youngest prince's manservant.

The small man cowered beneath Dean's gaze. "I apologize. Prince Castiel is in the stables. He wished me to find you."

Dean's heart gave an excited flutter at the mention of the youngest prince of Rohan. "The prince is here? Where?"

Inias pointed towards the right. "He is with the king's advisor, inspecting the newest additions to the herd."

Dean smiled, his bad mood withering away. Sam was with Prince Castiel. It was rare that he ever got to see his brother other than in brief passing. It would be good to see him outside of the throne room. "Okay, thanks. I'll be down there in a minute." Grabbing the saddle, he moved it back into the tack room and began brushing the hay and dirt off of his clothes. He wished he had a mirror to make sure he was presentable, but the prince would just have to take him how he was. Sucking in a breath, he walked through the maze of the stables until he caught sight of the expensive blue silks the prince often wore from the corner of his eye. "Sire," he bowed as he approached the man.

Prince Castiel was exquisite in Dean's eyes. His hair was a deep brown, messily tousled underneath his golden circlet and blue eyes that would make even the fairest of elves jealous. There was a twitch of his plush pink lips, but he kept his face neutral and responded with a dip of his chin. "Lord Dean. How are the horses?"

"Good, for the most part, Sire," Dean responded as he crossed his arms and let himself lean against a wooden post, waving Sam off with his eyes to give him and the prince some space. "Impala decided he didn't want to work today. That's the Mearas for you, though. They have a mind of their own, and he frankly doesn't care what I have to say about the issue. Bitchy ass horse," he scoffed.

"He's much like his owner, then." Castiel smirked suggestively, approaching Impala's stall and reaching out a hand. The Mearas pricked his ears forward and cautiously approached Castiel before placing his nose in the palm of the prince's hand. "Ah." The prince's eyes lit up mischievously, "Tamed by a prince. Exactly like his owner."

Dean sucked in a breath through his nose, piercing through Castiel with animalistic eyes, but he was granted no ability to respond as Sam and Inias meandered back into ear shot. "Was there something I could help you with, Sire?"

"Yes, actually," Castiel nodded, resting his hands behind his back once more. "I am interested in riding a particular horse, and I wanted your opinion on the matter. I feel like the stallion could truly give me the ride of my life. I'd like to discuss it with you in my chambers, if you wouldn't mind."

Dean was well aware of Sam shaking his head vigorously behind the prince, his cheeks red with embarrassment. The Rohirrim offered his prince a pleased smile, "I think I can help with that."

"Sire, I think that would be a bad idea," Sam stated, glaring daggers at his brother from over the prince's shoulder. "Your father wants to have an audience with you later today, and I'd hate for you to miss it."

"Nonsense," Castiel held up a hand to silence his father's advisor. "We'll be quick."

Dean's mouth twisted into a frown at that comment. "I don't know. It might take a while."

"Then it would be a really, _really_, good idea if you didn't do that right now," Sam spoke with urgency, his face tense with irritation.

"If the Prince needs to conduct business with Dean, then that will be what he does," Inias argued. "It is not your place to suggest otherwise."

"Yeah, _Sammy_, it's not your place," Dean smirked, feeling a huge sense of satisfaction at the manservant's loyalty and complete ignorance to the situation currently at hand.

"If you'll follow me, then." Castiel's blue eyes raked over Dean before turning and leading him out of the stables.

They were silent as they slipped through the crowds of people and up the stairs to the Halls of Meduseld, servants bowing their heads in acknowledgement as they made their way towards the double wooden doors, elaborate carvings of horses framing the way. Once Castiel had shut and locked the door, Dean wasted no time in shoving the prince against wood and locking lips with Castiel. They were fiercely grasping at each other's tunics, working at the many laces and clasps that kept the fabrics on their bodies.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean growled into his mouth. "Embarrassing me in front of my brother like that, insinuating I can't go longer than five minutes without blowing a load."

"Apologizes," Castiel moaned into his mouth, hand finally reaching down the front of Dean's breeches and grasping at his thick and hardened member. Dean groaned and thrust into the prince's hand. "You have to admit, it is always fun making Sam cringe."

Dean smiled against Castiel's lips in agreement. They both shrugged out of their tunics and Dean pulled at Castiel's trousers, falling to the floor along with them. Castiel was red and swollen and Dean licked his lips before taking him into his mouth, hands braced against Castiel's thighs. Dean relished the feeling of Castiel tugging at his hair as he hollowed out his cheeks and sucked hard as he worked his tongue around the prince's cock.

Castiel let the door keep him up right as he groaned from pleasure. "Just as I said," he breathed. "Tamed."

Dean moved off of Castiel with a wet pop and looked up at his prince through dark lashes. "I may be tamed, but I vaguely remember something about being able to give you the ride of your life."

Castiel pulled Dean up to his feet and placed his palms on the taller man's chest. "Perhaps we should do a little less discussing and more presentation." Castiel gave Dean a push and backed the man all the way to the edge of the bed before falling down on top of him and the mattress.

"God I love it when you're bossy," Dean growled as Castiel impatiently ignored Dean's trousers and pulled his cock free from beneath the fabric, the tip already shimmering with beads of pre-come. "Where's the oil?"

"Underneath the pillow," Castiel breathed as he turned himself around on the bed so that Dean had the perfect view of his ass.

Dean fumbled beneath the pillow over his head and pulled out the vial of oil, opening the tube and coating his fingers with the substance. He purred at the view of Castiel's hole above his lap and began rubbing circles over it with his fingers, the pucker fluttering with excitement. He thought about teasing his prince, but he remembered that they were on somewhat of a time crunch and shoved two fingers in at once, knowing that Castiel would relish the burn.

Castiel let out a sharp gasp and thrust back onto Dean's fingers, urging him on. "Dean, hurry," he whined as the Rohirrim worked him open.

"Hold on, baby, I don't want to hurt you. Just a bit more." Dean added a third finger and flexed the fingers wide to get the largest stretch he could to prepare the prince. Castiel was not as stretched as he would have liked, but his whines were getting persistent and Dean knew he wouldn't wait much longer. Coating himself with more oil he rubbed the head of his cock against Castiel's hole.

Impatiently, Castiel reached back for Dean's cock and held it beneath his hole, sinking down onto it in one fluid motion. "Ai Elbereth, Dean! How do you always feel this good?"

Dean placed a hand on Castiel's back and pushed him down so that he got a better view of himself fucking the prince above him. "How do you feel so tight each time? Gods, Cas." Dean relaxed back into the bed and watched as Castiel bounced up and down on his dick, simply enjoying the beautiful view. He knew the prince was jacking himself off as he rode him, his breaths becoming labored and his hole clenching erratically around him.

Castiel made no effort to silence himself as he came, screaming in pleasure as his release spilled over his hand onto the sheets. Dean grabbed at the man's slim waist and began pounding into him from below. It was hardly a moment longer before Dean was spilling his seed deep within Castiel's velvety walls, grunting with animalistic pleasure. The Rohirrim continued to thrust lazily until his member softened to the point it made it difficult. Letting himself slide out he grabbed at Castiel's thighs and pulled him up his body so that his dripping hole was level with his mouth. Dean ran his hands up Castiel's sides, a thin sheen of sweat glistening in the sunlight from the far window coating his skin. Spreading the prince's cheeks Dean leaned in and lapped at the swollen pucker with his tongue, Castiel writhing above him as he jutted it in and out.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," Castiel gasped, sheets clenched tightly between his fingers as he was relentlessly fucked by Dean's tongue.

There was an insistent knock on the door causing both prince and knight to freeze. "_Dean! Prince Castiel! The King is getting impatient! I swear to the Gods if I have to take the backlash for this I will murder you, Dean!"_

Dean growled and rolled his eyes, disappointment running through his veins as Castiel climbed off of him and began throwing his clothes back on. "Hold on a damn minute, Sammy!" Shoving himself back into his breeches he laced them back up and reached for his tunic. Neither of them spoke as they hastily dressed, but there was no hiding what had just occurred in the prince's chambers. Both Dean and Castiel were flushed, their lips swollen, and hair ruffled to the point no comb could fix it. Not to mention the smell. Both presentable, Dean cast the prince a comforting glance before unlocking the door to reveal his brother waiting impatiently.

Sam's entire face contorted into one of disgust at the sight of the two men. "Oh my _gods_, Dean! I seriously can't believe the two of you! Why the hell did I ever agree to keep my mouth shut about this?!"

"Because I'm the prince," Castiel responded simply, trying to fix his hair beneath his circlet, but it was honestly no use.

"Yeah, which means you should know better!" Sam cried in frustration, trying to keep his voice low amongst the passing servants, but finding it difficult to manage in his anger. "You two are so incredibly lucky that Inias is completely oblivious to the entire world around him or else you would have been caught the first time you two started whatever this is you are doing! The two of you don't even _try_ to be discrete!"

"I grow weary of this conversation," Castiel sighed, making his way fully into the hallway outside his chambers and closing the door behind Dean. "I am not the heir to the throne and thus who I take to my bed should be no concern to you or anyone else in this kingdom."

"Cas – Sire -" Sam corrected, remembering where they were, "If the two of you were caught it would be my brother's head that rolled, not yours, so forgive me if I'm concerned!"

"My head's too pretty to be cut off, Sammy," Dean teased, completely unbothered by any of the points his brother had made. He was sure some of the servants had figured out what was going on, but they were either too scared to bring it up or just didn't care. Sam's face remained stern and with a sigh Dean gave in, "Okay, you're right, sorry. We'll try and be more careful, okay?"

"Will you just please go see the King, Sire? And will you get back to training the horses like you're supposed to, Dean?" Sam pleaded.

"I will go to my father," Castiel agreed. He brushed his hand against Dean's in farewell before turning and making his way down the darkly lit halls of the small palace towards his father's chambers.

"You're a buzz kill, you know that?" Dean started as he and his brother began walking side-by-side towards the entrance. "Why don't you go find yourself some pretty maiden and settle down, huh?"

"Oh, geeze, Dean, I don't know. Maybe it's because some of us are too busy doing our jobs," Sam hissed. Making their way outside onto the concrete balcony overlooking their lands, he sucked in a breath, battling with himself internally.

Dean knew there was something else on his brother's mind and with a hesitant scratch to the back of his head he asked, "What is it, Sam?"

Sam shook his head, his long locks whipping into his face in the strong wind of the plains. "I'm sorry, Dean, but I don't think what the two of you are doing is right. King Charles has been like a father to us since the day Bobby brought us here. He took us in and raised us as his own, next to his three sons. Don't you feel like what you are doing is betrayal?"

Dean swallowed hard, stunned at the word that Sam had used to describe his and Castiel's relationship. "It's not like that Sammy…It's-" he licked his lips, unsure of how to continue. "It's more than that, ok?"

"I'm not saying you two don't care for each other," Sam argued, "But this can only end badly. You are the leader of the Rohirrim, Dean. You have to be focused on your men and your soldiers. You have a duty to protect them."

Dean clenched his jaw tightly before scowling and responding, "Yeah, and I have a duty to protect my prince, too." Slamming his shoulder hard into Sam, he walked past and descended the stairs. He needed a drink.

Making his way towards the lower hill of Edoras, he headed for his favorite tavern, The Roadhouse. It stood at the very bottom, towards the river and was a favorite amongst the Rohirrim. The pub keeper – Ellen – served the soldiers well and charged fair coin for her mead. She was a strong woman who had lost her husband in a battle with orcs at the eastern borders. It left her as a single parent to her daughter Jo, and she had taught herself and her daughter how to fight to protect themselves. Jo dreamt of joining the Rohirrim, but Ellen would not have it. The Rohirrim was not without its women soldiers, but Dean knew far better than to allow Jo in his rank, knowing he'd have to face Ellen's wrath. The woman scared him far more than even the king himself.

"Dean," Ellen greeted him as he approached the bar. "You look like a troll just stepped on your puppy. What's wrong?" She poured a pint of mead and placed it in front of him.

Dean gave a disheartened shrug, wrapping his hand around the handle of the mug. "It's nothing. Bad day, I guess."

"Hm," she hummed with narrow eyes. "Who's the lady?"

Dean choked on the mead he had just swallowed. Pounding his chest, he coughed it out and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Please, Dean, I've been around for over forty summers. I know that look. What happened? She not feel the same way?" She grabbed a rag and began wiping out wet mugs to hand to Jo.

"Uh, well. They feel the same way…" Dean trailed off, trying to figure out how he was going to get out of this conversation. "Let's just say they are of a house of far greater status than mine."

"Hmph. Figures you'd go and pick a Lady. You are a Lord, Dean, in case you forgot," she mentioned, smiling and greeting another group of soldiers that had made their way in.

"Not by blood," Dean mused into his cup.

"Well, chin up. There's plenty of maidens in Edoras and all of Middle-Earth that would be willing to get in your bed. Your father was always one to woo the ladies, too," she smiled warmly. "How is he these days? Have you heard from him at all?"

Dean gave a shrug. "Haven't heard from him in over ten years, Ellen, and frankly I don't ever want to. He left us."

"Don't talk about what you don't know," Ellen scolded, her mouth drawn into a tight line. "Your father had his reasons. He was good to you and Sammy. Far better than you could ever hope to know."

Dean's nostrils flared as he downed the rest of his drink. "I don't want to talk about this. Pour me another damn drink." Ellen snatched his mug forcefully and poured another drink, casting him an angry glare before leaving him for other customers. With a depressed sigh, Dean continued to drink, wondering if maybe what Sam had been saying was right.

/*/

King Charles – or Chuck, to those close to him - was sitting in his chair by the empty fireplace in his chambers, a book open in his lap. Castiel approached hesitantly, praying that he would not give himself away. "Father."

Chuck smiled as he closed the book and placed it on the mantle. "Castiel, my son, there you are. Where were you?"

"I apologize," he responded nervously, "I got distracted in the stables viewing the new horses Dean has taken on for training."

"You spend a lot of time with Dean," Chuck said suggestively, motioning for his son to take a seat across from him.

Castiel was cautious as he took a seat. "I enjoy the horses. I always have."

Chuck smiled, "Indeed you have. A horse -lord you truly have become." Relaxing back into his chair, he folded his hands and let his eyes grow more serious. "I wish this was simply a social call, but it is not."

"What business do you have for me?" Castiel asked, eager to change the subject.

"Earlier today we received a messenger from Gondor," the king responded.

Castiel's eyes grew wide in fear and distress. "Gondor? What did they want?"

Chuck blew out a heavy breath, resting his chin on his knuckles. "You know that the attacks on our villages bordering Gondor have increased of late. Our casualties grow in numbers while Lucifer's forces strengthen with the aid from Mordor. He has proposed a treaty."

Castiel bit at his lip anxiously before asking, "What is it he has asked for?"

"His messenger would not say," Chuck replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully, "Only that we were to send you to Gondor for negotiations."

"Me?!" Castiel yelped in surprise. "Why not you or Michael?"

Chuck shook his head, "I don't know, but Castiel, you must go. If we can put a stop to the bloodshed we have to."

Castiel could feel the fear creeping into his heart. Lucifer was merciless, commanding the most powerful army in Middle-Earth, and his father wanted him to march straight into the arms of the enemy. "I…understand."

Chuck stood and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "You have two days to prepare. You may choose a few men to accompany you. Whoever you feel will be the most comfort and protection to you." Reaching up, he cradled his son's face in his hand for several moments before walking back to his desk, where several stacks of parchment were splayed out. "I will see you at evening feast."

Trembling, Castiel nodded and somehow made it to his feet. "Yes, Father." With a hand clutching his heart, he scurried out of his father's chambers.

He had to find Dean.


	2. Chapter 2

_With the two children along for the journey, it was nearly a five days ride from Edoras from Enedwaith. Bobby was able to push his mare hard, but Sam and Dean tired long before the beast. It was nightfall on the fifth day when they rode past the gates of the outer wall and made the climb to the Hall of Meduseld atop the hill. The palace guards knew the wizard's presence meant there was a sense of urgency and made haste in fetching the king. _

_"Bobby," Chuck greeted the wizard in the throne room, his glance wary as his eyes set sights on the two children hiding in Bobby's robes. "I gather this isn't a social visit."_

_"'Fraid not," Bobby sighed with a somber face. "This is Sam and Dean, sons of the house of Winchester. Their mother was Mary of the Campbell house."_

_Chuck's eyes snapped up to lock with Bobby's. "What has happened?"_

_"Azazel found her. After all these years of secrecy, he somehow found her." Bobby shook his head in sorrow, hugging the boys close. "John doesn't think he knows of the boys, but he didn't want to risk it. There was no one else to turn to."_

_Chuck sucked in a breath and gave a slow nod, his gaze turning back to the scared boys. "Of course, I understand. They will be well guarded in my Halls. They look weary from travel. I shall have some servants prepare some food for them while we chat. There is much to discuss."_

_/*/_

_"My name is Karen. Won't you tell me yours, dear," the hobbit asked, as she placed a tray of food at the table in front of Dean._

_"He hasn't talked since Mommy died," Sam spoke solemnly, eyes cast downwards. _

_"Poor thing," Karen sighed, running a comforting hand atop Dean's head. "Try and get him to eat something, would you? It won't do to see him starve."_

_"Thank you," Sam responded, cautiously picking up a piece of bread and breaking it into smaller pieces to eat. _

_Dean kept his eyes on the floor, refusing to acknowledge anyone who passed by or addressed him. He was starving. For days he had refused to eat when Bobby offered him food, and his stomach roared in protest. But he wasn't hungry. Not really. _

_"I'm sorry about your mother," a gruff voice said._

_Dean briefly lifted his eyes to see who was speaking. A boy, older than himself but still very young, was now sitting across from him with blue eyes that shone brighter than the stars. Dean could not look away. _

_"I never knew my mother." He spoke softly, sadness underlining his words. "Father won't speak of her. I have no idea if she's alive or not." The boy waited for Dean to respond, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation in the first place. When Dean made no move to respond he offered, "My name is Castiel. I'm a prince, but I don't really like being called that. What's your name?" Dean did not answer. "I won't hurt you, I promise. Father said I should watch over you."_

_Dean bit at his inner lip. Since his mother died, he felt like he could trust no one, not even his own family. Every stranger that tried to be friendly with him on their travels was greeted with harsh green eyes and silence. But there was something calming about the young prince than sat across from him. Hunching to make himself seem small, Dean answered, "I'm Dean."_

_Castiel smiled. "Hello, Dean."_

_/*/_

Dean was nowhere to be found in the stables, and Castiel felt deflated as the sun began to set over the hills and the air began to grow chilled. He knew he could not express his fears to his father. He had to be the perfect son: strong and fearless. Yet, Castiel could not keep it in, hands visibly shaking with their desire to be comforted by someone. Castiel was no stranger to battle, and a band of orcs hardly frightened him, but this was Lucifer. This was walking right into the kingdom of the man who commanded the Wraiths. Even the hobbits in the far lands of the Shire had heard tales of the Witch Queen Abaddon and the chaos she brought.

Gliding silently across the floor, he strode past his room and entered a chamber just past it without knocking. Sitting at a large desk with a map of Middle-Earth pinned to the surface was a dark-haired man, chiseled features carved into his skin as if it were stone. Green eyes were staring attentively at the map, hands folded neatly together beneath his chin. They never looked up to acknowledge the newcomer. Instead he simply asked in a weary voice, "What is it, now?"

"Michael," Castiel greeted as he strode towards the desk, feeling himself on the brink of breaking.

That got the man's attention. Immediately he was looking up and standing up out of his chair. "Castiel. What is it? What's wrong?"

Castiel relished the soothing hand placed on his shoulder. Michael was not viewed by the people as affectionate, the heir to the throne never showing his vulnerability to possible enemies. But when it came to his youngest brother, he was incapable of being anything but tender. "You've heard that I'm to be sent to Gondor?"

Michael gave a curt nod, his hand slipping down his brother's arm and back to his side. "Yes. I was there when the messenger came. I would give anything to not have you do this, brother, but this –"

"Is too important, I know," Castiel agreed, his voice small in the exuberant room. "I am scared, Michael," he admitted, his eyes pleading Michael to do something. To get him out of it.

Michael's jaw clenched and his olive eyes turned somber. His only response was, "I know."

Castiel closed his eyes in defeat, feeling his heart fall to the pit of his chest. "What am I supposed to do?" The words ended up coming out in a shout, his body shaking as he spoke.

Michael hushed Castiel and cupped his cheeks with his hands. "Take Gabriel with you."

Castiel jerked faintly between Michael's hands, stunned by what his brother was suggesting. It was no secret amongst the kingdom how Michael and Gabriel felt about one another. "I don't understand. You hate Gabriel. Why would you suggest I take him with me?"

Michael sucked in a breath as he removed his hands from Castiel. "Gabriel and I have our differences, this is true, but I am no fool. I know he has great skill as a warrior, and he loves you, Castiel. He is fearless and would go to great lengths to protect you. You know I would never suggest it if I didn't think it was wise. The grace of the Valar will protect you." He placed a gentle kiss to Castiel's forehead. "It's almost time for evening meal. We should go join Father."

/*/

"You know, Dean-o," a voice purred next to Dean at the bar, "it's really bad when Ellen cuts you off and yet you abuse your position to get your soldiers to buy the drinks for you."

Dean scowled, his body hunched over the bar top so far that his chin would have hit the wood if it weren't for the inside of his arm keeping it up and off. "Fuck off, Gabriel."

"I could definitely be persuaded, if my lovely little ass was what interested you." Gabriel smirked. "But I have it on good authority you prefer something a little more blue-eyed." The drink in Dean's hand found itself spilling its contents all over the wood top. "Ye-ah, Sammy sure does complain a lot when he's drunk, and he had a lot to say about covering for you and my baby bro all the time in front of Daddy. Don't worry though." He slapped a hand against Dean's back, purposely using far more force than necessary. "My lips are sealed."

Dean had to remember to breathe at the realization Gabriel knew his secret. Suddenly feeling completely sober, he responded, "You have the loosest lips in all of Middle-Earth!"

There was a twinkle in Gabriel's eye. "Hmm, yeah, that's true on a lot of levels, bu-hut-" Gabriel took a seat next to his commander. "I love Cassie too much to do that to him. I _am_ assuming the reason you are moping isn't because you hurt my baby bro and I need to kick your ass, right?"

Dean brought his elbows together and dug the heel of his palms into his eyes. "Sam thinks what Cas and I are doing is disrespectful to the king and that we should stop."

Gabriel gave a disgruntled snort. "You and Sam don't owe my dad anything, Dean. The only reason he took you and Sam in was because it would be beneficial for him in the long run. Both of you were always under his watchful eye, and he was able to mold you into exactly what he wanted from the start."

Dean crossed his arms in thought. "He's not like that, Gabe. If he was really that ruthless he would have had you killed the moment you decided you couldn't be bothered with the title of royalty. Instead, he lets you stay here."

Gabriel huffed, downing his drink. "He doesn't do it because he cares about me. He does it because, once again, I'm too useful to get rid of. Wait until Michael takes the throne. I'll be kicked out of here for sure, then." Wiping the back of his mouth with his sleeve he stated firmly, "Fuck my dad, and fuck what Sam has to say. If having your dick up his ass makes my brother happy, you keeping doing what you do."

Dean figured the reality was somewhere in the middle when it came to the royal family. Sam had extreme affection for the king, while Gabriel loathed his father within every fiber of his being. Dean really wasn't sure where on the scale his feelings fell at this point. Pushing his empty mug to the side, he looked over his shoulder at his men seated at the various tables and frowned when he noticed how quiet they had all suddenly become. Several of them began scrambling to their feet only to be waived off by a dark-haired man. Dean squinted, feeling like he recognized the man who was causing such a fuss.

"What the hell are you doing down here, Cassie?" Gabriel frowned next to him.

Dean's eyes widened. It was indeed Castiel dressed in common garb standing before them. There was none of the golden embroidery or the elaborate leather work present, and the prince was most certainly not wearing his circlet. "Cas?"

"Good, you're both here," Castiel spoke with relief, until he got close enough to Dean to smell the alcohol. Then he frowned and his brow furrowed. "Are you drunk?"

Dean swallowed hard in embarrassment. "I, uh, might have had a few."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "He's drunk, baby bro. You never answered my question. Why are you here? You're giving the guys heart attacks being down here amongst us mere commoners."

Castiel glared at him. "You are hardly a commoner, Gabriel. I need to speak with both of you about an urgent matter. Is there somewhere quieter we could go?"

Gabriel gave a snort, "Outside, maybe? It's a tavern, Cassie."

"Gabriel, I'm serious about this!" Castiel huffed in frustration.

Dean could feel himself growing more sober by the moment, worry rising in his chest at Castiel's insistence. "Gabriel, your house is up the road. Can we go there?"

Gabriel ran an uncertain hand through his long hair and gave a curt nod. "Yeah, okay."

Edoras was quiet as they made their way in the darkness towards Gabriel's small house at the furthest point of the city. He had made it a point to live as far as possible from his family at the top of the hill. He lit several candles to provide them lighting and began heating a kettle to make them tea. Whatever it was Castiel wanted to talk about, Gabriel knew he and Dean needed clearer heads.

"I know it's late, but I don't have much time," Castiel apologized as he accepted the hot tea from his brother.

"Cas, what's this all about?" Dean asked worriedly.

Castiel bit at his lip, "I am to go to Gondor."

"What?!" Gabriel and Dean's voices rang out in unison.

"A messenger came and said Lucifer wanted to discuss a treaty. He specifically requested I represent Rohan," Castiel explained solemnly.

Gabriel slammed a fist down onto the table. "That's fucking suicide, Castiel, and Dad knows it! He's honestly asking you to go through with this?"

"Cas, Gabe is right," Dean started, his muscles tense in anger. "You can't go."

"I don't have a choice," Castiel retorted. "If I refuse his summons it could mean all out war. I am terrified," he admitted, "which is why I need you both with me when I go."

"Damn right I'm coming!" Dean agreed with no hesitation. "Like hell you are doing this without me."

Gabriel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms curiously. "I get why you want Dean to go, but why me? We've never exactly been on the best of terms, bro."

Castiel hesitated, unsure whether or not to reveal the true circumstances behind the request, but settled on the truth, hoping it might better his brothers' already strained relationship. "Michael insisted."

Gabriel sat there unmoving, golden eyes locked on his brother. "Don't lie to me."

Whatever Castiel had expected Gabriel's reaction to be, this was not it. "I assure you, I am speaking the truth. I was as confused as you are by the request."

"So, what? He figures we won't come back and it's an easy way to off me?" Gabriel scoffed.

Castiel glowered at his brother. "How dare you? Are you so blinded by your hatred you fail to understand we are still family? Michael still cares about you, despite your differences."

"No," Gabriel snapped in disagreement. "Michael cares about you. He only wants me to go because he knows I'd lay down my life for you. And he's right." Sucking in a frustrated breath Gabriel cursed. "I don't like this, Castiel, which is why I'm coming."

"Thank you," Castiel spoke sincerely.

Dean rubbed at his stubble in contemplation. "Why now? We aren't even in an active war with Gondor right now."

"Which is why I hate this more and more," Gabriel added.

"I am unsure," Castiel answered. "I suppose we will have our answers when we arrive in Minis Tirith."

"Does Dad know you are taking me and Dean-o?" Gabriel inquired, pushing his chair back and standing, "Will he even allow it? That leaves no one in charge of the Rohirrim if this goes south."

"Uriel can handle it," Dean said, leaning on his elbows. "Cas isn't going without me." His and Sam's discussion be damned.

"Father said I could take whomever I wished. I choose the two of you, and that is final," Castiel responded. "We should retire. We will head out tomorrow morning."

Dean rose with Castiel. "Let me walk with you." Castiel shot Gabriel a glance over Dean's shoulder warily. Dean gave him a shrug, "Ah, he knows."

"Yeah, and I haven't tattled, so remember that," Gabriel demanded before blowing out the candle at the table and shoving the two out his door.

Dean and Castiel walked side-by-side back to Meduseld. The halls were extremely quiet, most everyone having retired, with the exception of the night sentry. Licking his lips as they stopped in front of Dean's room he turned to Castiel and said, "Stay with me." It wasn't a request. It would be easier here. There would be fewer guards, less servants to ask questions. Dean feared it might be the last night they would have like this.

Castiel did not give it much thought before nodding. "Okay."

Taking Castiel's hand, Dean led them into the darkness of his room, the moonlight shining in just enough so they could see each other's shapes. With fluid motions they locked lips and began undressing each other; the pace was much slower and gentler than the day prior. Dean took his time trailing fingers up and down Castiel's skin, memorizing every dip and curve of his body. Castiel kept their kisses long, clinging to the taste of Dean's mouth as if he could not quench his thirst. Dean thrusts were careful and long, each one deliberate into the man beneath him. Their love making was slow and passionate and they clung to each other in the sheets after, neither able to find rest that night.

/*/

"Absolutely not," Chuck spoke from upon his throne, staring down at Castiel, Dean, and Gabriel. "I expected you to choose Dean, Castiel, but I had hoped you might choose someone else with more diplomatic experience to assist you."

"What, my sword not diplomatic enough for you, Daddy?" Gabriel scowled. His eyes flickered towards Michael, but his older brother sat next to Chuck expressionless.

"I do not doubt your heart or skill, my son." Chuck responded. "But Castiel will need more than the sword to speak for him against Lucifer."

"This is non-negotiable," Castiel stated, standing his ground. "Father, you told me I could choose who would accompany me. This is my choice."

Chuck sunk deeper into his throne, his finger resting on his lips in thought. There was a heavy moment of silence weighing down on the throne room before the king spoke up again. "I will allow it, on the condition you take Sam along with you."

"NO!" Dean growled, holding no regard to the audience he was speaking to.

"Dean." Sam stepped forward from next to Chuck. "I've already agreed."

"Sammy, I can't let you go!" Dean shook his head, fighting to keep himself from leaving Castiel's side. "I can't let you put your life at risk."

"But it's okay for you to do it?" Sam argued.

"Yes!" Dean responded. "I'm the one who chose to be a soldier, not you!"

"Dean, for once just let me make my own choices!" Sam snapped. "I'm the best diplomat in the entire kingdom of men. Let me protect Castiel, too."

Dean held his brother's eyes, the unspoken words being exchanged between their gaze. Dean knew this was a battle he would not win. Gritting his teeth, he gave in. "Fine."

Castiel brushed his fingers against Dean's wrist in comfort. "Very well."

Chuck nodded. "Good. I will see you off when you are ready."

Castiel's shoulders sank as Dean and Sam argued in a corner and his father walked away. Already he felt this journey was doomed and it had yet to even begin. He felt no comfort from Michael's embrace this time, his brother's soothing words feeling like empty promises.

As Michael separated from Castiel he stepped towards Gabriel, towering over the other man with a threatening stance. "You do not return to this kingdom without Castiel, do you understand me?"

"Michael-" Castiel tried to plead, but he was hushed by Michael's raised hand.

"If you are to return to Rohan, it will be with Castiel or not at all. Do you understand?" Michael asked again.

Gabriel stepped forward, unafraid of his brother. "Oh, I understand just fine." Without another word the two dispersed, leaving Castiel alone save the guards in the room.

For the first time since Castiel could remember, he felt himself praying.


End file.
